A Father's Compromise
by Secretly-A-Fangirl
Summary: Now, everyone knows that there's no real way to look intimidating when you appear to be a normal dad taking his daughter for a swimming lesson, that's just a fact and there's really no changing it, but if anyone can make a Soccer Dad intimidating without scaring his child, then it's James Moriarty. He hopes so, at least. Mormor Parentmor
1. Sick and Tired: Jim Moriarty

Thalia Grace Moran was sick, there wasn't anything that Jim could do about it except stuff her full of medicine and wait it out, but that doesn't mean he has to be happy about it. He's the most dangerous man in London, as his daughter enjoys pointing out, yet here he was, only able to hand his baby tissue after tissue and hold her hair back as she gets sick. He wasn't sure how to comfort the little one, that was Sebastian's job when he was home; no, Jim was the one to offer moral support while keeping his suit clean of all the nastiness a four year old can track into the house. Too bad for Jim that Sebastian was taking care of a problem in France at the moment.

As it was, Thalia is currently in bed, dosed with ibuprofen and clutching her teddy as she sleeps through a nasty case of the flu.

The house was finally quiet after hours of whimpering and Jim was too tired to worry about cleaning up the mess of medicine, broken crayons, and bullet casings spread throughout the house. Shuffling down the hall in his best suit and one bunny slipper, he finally collapses in his bed, kicking off his remaining slipper and basically tearing off his suit jacket before yanking the blanket and sheet up to cover him. Sleep is good, sleep is wanted, and sleep is damn well what he's going to get. At least, that's what he kept repeating in his head as he stares up at the ceiling. Sleep avoided him, worry eating away at him as his thoughts turn to his daughter. She's never been this sick before, sure she's had minor colds and stuffy noses, but they've always kept her shots up to date to avoid this shit.

She skips one measly appointment and now she's too sick to care about anything other than the fact that Papa Sebby was gone and Daddy Jim was stuck trying to fill in the best he could.

Jim wasn't the nurturing type, he tried, but always seemed to fall short of the mark and now his daughter is running an extremely high fever because he had to reschedule her appointment in order to fit in some well-needed school clothes shopping. Now she's sick and still doesn't have the clothes she needed for her snooty private school. He lets out a sharp sigh, turning onto his side to stare at the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the entire left wall. There are two French doors in the center with faux gold handles that lead out onto a balcony of sorts. The three of them have breakfast out there when it's not too chilly, a breakfast that Sebastian gets up early to make in order to spend time with his daughter before having to go to work. Moonlight streams into the room, entering through a gap in the thick blue curtains and lighting the room just enough for Jim to make out the tiny shadow.

He turns onto his back again, finding Thalia standing a few feet away from his bed_, _her pale blonde hair a tangled mess, pale cheeks a bright red, and her teddy clutched tightly to her chest. "What is it," he asks, Irish lilt more pronounced in his exhausted state. She doesn't say anything, her lower lip poking out and a whimper escaping. "Come here, Honeybear." She runs to the bed and practically jumps into his open arms, situating herself directly beside him with her little head resting against his chest. "You know Daddy loves you, right?"

"Love you, too," she whispers right before her eyes shut and her breathing evens out. She's sound asleep in seconds, but Jim is wide awake. Well, as awake as could be expected in his state. He couldn't sleep, not when his little Honeybear is running a fever high enough to make her and him both sweat. The children's ibuprofen doesn't seem to be working and he begins to wonder what he should do. _Take her to an emergency room, give her more medicine, dump her in a lukewarm bath?_ _What exactly would Sebastian order be done?_

Damn that man, he shouldn't have left when he knew things would be picking up with Thalia's school. He has a bake sale next week, her ballet picks up in three days, and her headmaster would happily nail Jim to a post. Jim was practically banned from everything he didn't have to attend all because of the time he threatened to turn Mrs. Robertson's child into a pair of sandals if the brat made one more comment about Thalia having two dads.

The next thing he knows, his alarm is blaring, the front door of his house is slamming shut, and the heavy tread of his tiger is echoing through the halls. He doesn't want to move, doesn't think it's possible to budge even an inch without pain radiating through his body. Thalia sits up slowly, her dark eyes fixed on the door and her lips twitching into a sort of smile as the bedroom door opens and Sebastian steps inside. Sebastian's gaze goes directly to their daughter, his bag falling out of his hand as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed and pull Thalia into his arms.

"Hey, Honeybear," he soothes, brushing her ratty hair out with his fingers until it's smooth and shiny again. "Why didn't you call and tell me our daughter was—" Whatever he wanted to say was forgotten as Sebastian's eyes land on Jim.

The consulting criminal looked as pitiful as their daughter, his dark eyes half-opened, nose runny, and complexion paler than usual. He's got the same sickness Thalia's suffering from, which means that Sebastian is in charge of the place until these two are back to their normal cynical selves. With a nod, Sebastian stands with Thalia in his arms and demands that Jim get his ass out of bed and follow him into the living room. Once there, he sets the pair down on the couch, wraps them both in blankets until they look like Eskimos, and disappears into the kitchen to make some soup.

"Give me the remote," he hears Jim groan, followed by a loud smack and a yelp. "Don't you dare hit me with it again, young lady!" Sebastian laughs, knowing just how stubborn Thalia was when it came to her morning cartoons.

When he walks back in with the soup, he expects to find the pair still bickering about what they wanted to watch, but, to his great surprise, he finds them sound asleep; Thalia laying with her head in Jim's lap, Jim with his head resting on the back of the couch and his mouth wide open, both snoring louder than the rerun of Scooby-Doo playing on the TV. He sets the bowls down on the coffee table, making sure Jim and Thalia were covered up, before moving to grab his phone and snapping a once in a lifetime picture of the most dangerous man in London and the little girl that managed to steal the heart he doesn't have.


	2. Did you Miss me: Thalia Moran

Thalia liked it when her parents argued, granted, she could do without all the yelling and she couldn't understand a word they said since they both spoke two different languages, but the point remained the same. When angry, both Sebastian and Jim had a tendency to use swear words, which worked in Thalia's favor. As the two men shouted at each other back and forth, they would continuously throw twenties in Thalia's direction every time a curse was yelled. The money was put in one of Thalia's swear jars, once full, the jar would join the others of its kind in the back of the spare closet to be used on vacations.

One day was particularly bad, Sebastian had found out Jim was indeed alive after his daughter saw a picture of Jim on the TV. Of course, Thalia had mixed emotions about it as well; should she feel excited that her daddy is back in London after two years away or angry that his big fat head had interrupted the movie she had been watching at the time? Sebastian had been just as upset, even more so when the man in question walked into the country house Thalia and Sebastian have been vacationing in.

Jim gave the two a big smile, holding his arms open as though he expected the pair to jump in his arms and express how much they'd missed him while he was away. Instead he got a pillow thrown at his face by Thalia and a punch to the gut, courtesy of Sebastian. From there on, it was a continuous argument, prompting Thalia to grab her newest swear jar and plop herself down on the floor between the men and wait for the money to start flowing.

She didn't know what they were saying, the languages were ones not taught to the girl for that exact reason, but she did know that whenever her papa and daddy changed languages, she would be considered rich afterwards. Slowly her jar began to fill, the money varying from ones all the way to one-hundreds as the cursing escalated. When the yelling finally died away, the seven year old had a full jar and a smile on her face as she looks up at her family. Seb had an expression of guilt on his face that he always has whenever he and Jim argue in front of their daughter, but Jim only stares down at his wallet that was now devoid of any cash he had there.

"I think she enjoys us arguing a little too much, wouldn't you say, Tiger," Jim asks sarcastically, raising a brow when Thalia giggles. Seb catches on quickly with a smile of his own as his rage begins to die down a little more than before. He scoops Thalia up in his arms, dropping the blonde down on the couch and laughing along with her when Jim blows a raspberry on her stomach. Thalia giggles, playfully wriggling like a little worm and trying to escape as her parents continue to tickle her. Nothing is spared—her feet, her belly, her neck—they're all attacked until the three were red in the face with all traces of anger forgotten.

Soon the little family was situated on the couch, Thalia's feet in Sebastian's lap and her head in Jim's, the criminal playing with her hair. Where once it was just a pale blonde like her father's, it now has traces of red in it from her mother's side of the family. That was the main thing Kelsey Mather had going for her, the pretty red hair that she had passed onto her daughter even if in so small a way.

This is what Jim truly missed while away, the tender moments where he didn't have to think about anything except how to make his daughter laugh until her stomach hurt. Thalia missed it too, glad that her papa finally had a reason to smile more now that he didn't have to mourn her daddy. And that's why Thalia enjoyed it when her parents argued, because they would always end it with snuggling on the couch together, Thalia feeling more loved than ever as her papa and daddy exchanged happy smiles.

Well, as happy as James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran could ever get, that is.


	3. Pool Scene: Jim Moriarty

The one big problem with being a consulting criminal and having a daughter, Jim soon found out, wasn't keeping Thalia away from his work, but finding a babysitter in time for his work to happen. Normally he would have planned all of this out in advance, but there was no babysitter willing to watch Thalia past eleven and his meeting with Sherlock starts at twelve in the morning, far past Thalia's bedtime. So, he'd done the only thing he could that would ensure her relative safety and keep her away from Sebastian's sniper rifles—he dressed her up and brought her with him to the pool where it all began for Jim.

As it is, Thalia has on a one-piece bathing suit, an inflated plastic float ring around her waist made to look like a turtle, orange water wings around her upper arms, goggles for her eyes, and a snorkel. In all honesty, Jim would prefer her to wear the pretty dress he'd picked out for her, but the second they entered the building, the four year old ran off to change.

Now, everyone knows that there's no real way to look intimidating when you appear to be a normal dad taking your daughter for a swimming lesson, that's just a fact and there's really no changing it, but if anyone can make a Soccer Dad intimidating without scaring his child, then it's James Moriarty. He hopes so, at least.

They'd picked up Watson a few minutes before they arrived, Thalia managing a few tears and begging the good doctor to help her find her daddy. She led him to an alley where her papa had jumped Watson and wired him up with the Semtex. Johnny boy was standing just out of sight while they waited for Sherlock to arrive and Jim put his mind to talking Thalia into changing again.

"Now, sweetie," Jim says in the kindest voice he can manage," what have I told you about making impressions."

"That they don't matter when Papa takes care of people," she responds instantly with a bright smile.

"Well... You're not wrong about that part." He smooths his hair back, brown eyes narrowing slightly as he thinks up a new way to make her understand. "Okay, but don't you want people to know that you look so beautiful in that new dress you wore on the way here?" She tilts her head to the right, looking up at Jim with those big blue eyes of hers. "No, don't do the pouty eyes, you know that's not fair." She pokes her bottom lip out, mustering up a few tears to make Jim feel like the scum of the earth, which isn't easy considering how highly he regards himself. He lets out a long sigh, one look at his watch letting him know that Sherlock should arrive at any minute. "Fine, but no jumping in the pool without an adult in there with you."

"Thank you, Daddy!" She wraps her arms around his waist tightly, nuzzling her face against his stomach in a loving gesture only children are capable of. He pats her head, absently fixing her crooked ponytail. Honestly, Sebastian isn't allowed to fix their daughter's hair ever again. He always sent her off to school with lopsided pigtails or crooked ponytails, and once he sent her to school without her hair even being brushed. "I'm still pretty, ain't I?"

"Of course you are, Honeybear." She beams up at him, practically jumping up and down when she hears Sherlock's voice ring out. She knew that meant they would soon enter the room that held the pool, though Moriarty was reluctant about having her swim in something the public masses have been in. Perhaps he should just hire someone to build an indoor pool in their country estate? It could be a birthday present. Snapping out of his thoughts, Jim brings the microphone up to his mouth and instructs the doctor to step inside to face Sherlock.

"Evening," John greets in monotone, repeating the word Moriarty just spoke, though the criminal mastermind put much more emphasis on the word. "This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?"

"John," comes Sherlock's astonished response," What the hell...?" Thalia's eyes go wide when she hears the swear word, shaking her head a little to show she disapproved. Jim just winks at her, sure she would find the time to demand a dollar from Sherlock for her swear jar.

"Bet you never saw this coming." Thalia giggles quietly at the tones Jim uses, her little hands moving to cover her mouth and muffle the noise.

"Open your coat, Johnny boy," Jim instructs in a sing-song tone," let your boy toy see your new accessory." Jim watches through the small window as John obliges, the other man removing his hands from his coat pockets and opening the coat further to show Sherlock the Semtex binding John to Jim's will. It's all so much fun and Jim is having trouble not laughing along with his daughter. "What would you like me to make him say next?" While John spoke in monotone still, Jim made his words sound as though they were being spoken by an excited ten year old. "Gottle of geer! Gottle _of geer_, gottle..."

"Stop it," Sherlock interrupts, looking around the pool, but never pinpointing where Jim and Thalia hid.

"Nice touch this, the pool where little Carl died," John continues, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. "I stopped him." Sebastian raises his rifle, the bright red laser fixed to the top of it beaming down to rest on John's chest. "I can stop John Watson, too. Stop his heart." Sherlock turns away from John in frustrated anger, looking in the wrong direction.

"Who are you?" Jim smiles down at Thalia, taking one of her hands in his as he pulls the door open.

"I gave you my number," he calls out to get Sherlock's attention," I thought you might call." Thalia smiles, recognizing the tone Jim uses whenever he reads her _The Hobbit_, the voice used for Bilbo. Jim and Thalia move further into the room, Jim making sure he kept a good grip on Thalia's hand in case she decided it'd be a good idea to jump into the freezing water in the pool. "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket," Jim asks in his regular voice," or are you just pleased to see me?" Sherlock pulls out said handgun, pointing it at Jim, though he did send a glance down at Thalia first.

"Both." Jim pauses by one of the supports, his free hand in his pocket while Thalia twirls around like a little ballerina, unable to focus on the danger of the situation and feeling completely safe with her daddy nearby. In her mind, she was safer than the Queen as long as her daddy and papa were nearby, and she wasn't wrong about it either.

"Jim Moriarty, hi." Sherlock's only reaction in a confused look, clearly unable to remember where he's seen Jim before and wondering where the child had come from. "Jim?" He begins to walk again, tugging Thalia along with him. "Jim from the hospital?" Sherlock brings his other hand up to help steady the gun should he need to fire it, though he wouldn't get the chance, not with Sebastian hiding upstairs. "Oh, did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose," his tone changes again, going a bit high-pitched," that was rather the point." He watches as Sherlock's gaze cuts momentarily to John's chest before darting back to Moriarty. "Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle." Thalia opens her mouth to proudly proclaim just who that someone is, but one stern look from Jim has her closing her mouth again. "I don't like getting my hands dirty."

"Not even with birthday cake," Thalia states without a care. She looks up at him with those pouty eyes that never failed to make him cave, tugging insistently on his hand. "When can I go swim?" Jim gives a curt shake of his head to show her now is not the time for such questions.

"Be a good girl, darling, I'm working."

"Spoilsport." Jim swallows down a petty response, deciding to focus back on the two men across from them. John's stance was rigid, though Jim supposed most ordinary people would be afraid that a wrong twitch would blow them to smithereens. Why should Sherlock's little pet be any different?

"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see. Like you." He can see the realization bloom in Sherlock's eyes, but still he could not grasp how powerful Moriarty is. Jim had connections everywhere in the world, his own personal web that stretched across the entire globe.

"Dear Jim," Sherlock states in example," please, will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?" Jim chuckles, taking a few more steps forward with Thalia coming after. "Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?"

"Just so," Jim agrees with the faux English accent he uses to mock Sebastian's father on holidays.

"A consulting criminal. Brilliant!" He knew Sherlock would appreciate that, a darkness to his light. Demons and angels were all well and good, but if they were put on a scale, then James Moriarty would be nothing less than the devil. Criminals told scary stories about what happened to those that crossed Moriarty, never knowing that the big man himself was making his plans with a sleepy child curled up in his lap.

"Isn't it?" Jim allows a lazy smile to grow on his lips, the sort of smile developed after years of dealing with people too stupid to arrange their own crimes, a smile that sent shivers down the spines of many apart from Thalia and Sherlock Holmes. "No one ever gets to me." The smile vanishes, replaced by bored contentment. "And no one ever will." Sherlock pulls the hammer back, readying the gun to be fired. The only sign that Jim was even slightly concerned showing itself when he gently nudges Thalia to stand half-behind him.

"Obviously somebody did." He nods towards Thalia, one brow cocked as he waited for an explanation.

"What makes you think I'm not just using her?" That amused smile makes itself known again, a faint curling at the corners of his lips. "After all, what better shield than an innocent little girl?" But the ruse wouldn't last, not with Thalia being so comfortable around him and he knows he has to try for something else. "Or maybe I just stole her out of her crib like a faerie."

"Come now, surely you can concoct a better lie than that? And even if he wasn't here, you'd still be lying because here we are. I got to you, Moriarty."

"You've certainly come the closest. Now you're in my way." He keeps his tone light, both to annoy Sherlock and to show Thalia that she needn't be afraid. The child grips the end of his suit jacket in her hands, her cheek pressed against his hip as she watches the show play out. She liked to watch these sorts of things, usually curled up in an office chair and watching on a computer screen at the grainy footage of a CCTV camera.

"Thank you."

"Didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes, you did."

"Yeah, okay, I did," he says with a playfully exaggerated shrug that got him a giggle from Thalia. Despite her grip on him, she was entirely at ease and knew Jim would do everything in his power to keep her safe. "But the flirting's over, Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now," the last sentence is said in a sing-song voice again as he starts walking, Thalia still clutching his jacket tightly. "I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning... My dear." He glances down at the water, making up his mind completely that Thalia wouldn't be jumping in there any time soon. "_Back off_." He smiles again, continuing his little stroll towards the pair of consulting detectives. "Although I have loved this, this little _game_ of ours." His tone changes once more, sounding more like how he voices Hagrid when he reads Thalia _Harry Potter_. "Playing Jim from IT, playing gay." His tone returns to normal. "Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

"People have died."

"That's what people _DO!_" The sudden shout doesn't affect his daughter, the four year old used to his random screaming after playing, not to mention beating him, at Candyland on several occasions. His voice echoes off the walls and concrete, making it sound like there were ten of him instead of just the one.

"I will stop you."

"No, you won't." Jim shakes his head with a little shrug of his shoulders, unconcerned with Sherlock's threat.

"You all right," the interesting man asks Watson, his gaze moving to look the other man over. John says nothing, still in the same position he had started out in with his arms spread just enough that the coat front stays open. Jim leans over John's shoulder, to talk to him.

"You can talk, Johnny boy. Go ahead." Jim pulls back at John's nod, looking back at Sherlock as the taller man holds out something small and black.

"Take it."

"Huh? Oh, _that_." Thalia moves instead of Jim, Sherlock kneeling in front of her slowly to hand the USB drive off. He looked uncertain about whether or not to allow Thalia to return to Jim, but his intelligence wins out. Had he laid one hand on Thalia, Sebastian would have shot him without hesitation. Thalia returns to Jim's side, giving her daddy the tiny piece of equipment. "The missile plans." He kisses it, looking up with a smile. "_Boring!_ I could have got them anywhere." He tosses the USB drive into the water, Thalia plopping down on the ground beside him with her arms resting on the inflated ring around her waist. John moves suddenly, jumping up on Jim's back and holding him tightly against John's chest.

"Sherlock, run," the blond shouts at the same time, Thalia looking up at them with widened eyes. "Take the kid and get out of here!" One of John's arms wraps around Jim's neck, tugging his head back uncomfortably, yet despite all of that, Jim still laughs it off.

"_Good! Very_ _good!_" Jim laughs again, the sound reassuring Thalia. The red beam of the laser moves as Sebastian readjusts himself above, hovering briefly over Jim's abdomen before moving back to its place on John's shoulder.

"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mister Moriarty, then we both go up." John is breathless, the adrenaline the only thing keeping him standing at this point. Jim remains calm through it all, Thalia watching with her head tilted back slightly and her little mouth opened just the tiniest bit.

"Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around, but then people do get so sentimental about their pets." Jim himself is an excellent example of that, what with his own pet tiger and cub living with him. John yanks roughly again, making Jim let out a small grunt. "And so touchingly loyal, but... _Oops!_" Jim grins again as a new laser focused between Sherlock's eyes, Sebastian's ex sister-in-law coming in handy. "You've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson." He can feel John tense, looking up to see the indecision on the other man's face before being released. "Gotcha." Jim smooths his suit jacket from where Watson had wrinkled the expensive fabric, sending Sherlock an incredulous look. "Westwood."

"It looks better with pink frosting on it," Thalia says smartly, giving Jim a toothy grin. Instead of admonishing her, he brings a finger up to his lips and she mimes zipping hers closed.

"Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? To you?"

"Oh, let me guess," Sherlock says knowingly," I get killed."

"Kill you?" Jim makes a face at the assumption. "No, don't be obvious. I mean I'm going to kill you anyway someday. I don't want to rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no, no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you." His expression turns somber, thoughts zipping through his mind almost too fast to comprehend; all the different plans his has in motion to make sure they always end up in one place with a pistol in Jim's pocket and Sherlock all alone. "I will burn the _heart_out of you."

Sherlock takes great pains to look unaffected, but Jim knows that he's afraid of the threat and Jim knows that Sherlock's heart resides inside his pet doctor. Attack him or the kindly old woman that owns their flat and Sherlock will crumble away into abominable rage or utter despair.

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one," Sherlock says quietly, a challenge if Jim has ever heard one.

"But we both know that's not quite true," he counters. "Well, I'd better be off." Jim looks around the pool, holding out a hand for Thalia to take, which she does reluctantly. "So nice to have had a proper chat." Sherlock never lowers the pistol, only adjusting his hold on it to have a better grip, the barrel of it aimed at Jim's head.

"What if I was to shoot you right now?" Thalia's quick intake of breath is enough to start anger building inside him, but Jim suppresses it to save face.

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." He does a mock surprised expression before continuing. "Because I'd be surprised, Sherlock, really I would. And just a teensy bit..." Angry that Thalia would have blood all in her pretty hair and probably scarred for life. "Disappointed. And of course, you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long." Sebastian wouldn't be very happy if his daughter is permanently traumatized. "Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." He tugs on Thalia's hand, making her walk with him to the nearest exit.

"Catch... You... Later."

"No, you won't."

Jim gives the two a moment alone to reassure themselves that everything would be alright, spending the time explaining why public pools were nasty and not to be entered unless unavoidable to a little girl that looked ready to start screaming at any second. She certainly doesn't have Sebastian's calm demeanor, she throws fits just like her worthless mother. He quickly cuts across the lobby to another door that would lead back into the pool, throwing it open before Thalia could burst into a complete tantrum.

"Sorry boys, I'm _so_ changeable! It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness." Thalia waddles out, the huge inflatable ring making it difficult for her to walk. "You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind." The word _mind_ is drawn out a little in a silly tone.

"And probably my answer has crossed yours." Sherlock turns, raising the pistol once more only to lower it just enough for it to be pointed at the jacket rigged with Semtex. Jim smiles, just a small tug at the corner of his mouth. This is Sherlock's move, the one unpredictable thing to really happen today. He pulls that trigger and they all go up, just smears of blood hidden in the rubble left behind.

Just as the tension reached the crescendo, Jim's phone begins to ring, Stayin' Alive echoing through the room and making Jim roll his eyes. _If Seb's calling to chew me out about this, I'll break his damn nose_. Sherlock and John share confused looks until Jim pulls the disposable mobile out of his pocket, looking at the caller ID to see if it was important.

_Irene Adler_, he muses silently upon recognizing the number.

"Do you mind if I get that?"

"Go ahead, please. You've got the rest of your life." Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Thalia waddles her way over to Sherlock, holding out a hand expectantly. _Ah, here it comes, the moment I've really been looking forward to_.

"You said a bad word earlier," she states, making Sherlock raise a brow. "You owe me money for my swear jar." John and Sherlock share another look as Jim continues with the phone call, mouthing _Sorry_ to them, but not interfering.

"I'm... Sorry, I don't have any money on me." Thalia shrugs with a smile, running and jumping in the pool before anyone could stop her. Her water wings and ring kept her above water and relatively safe as she kicks her feet to make her bob around the pool until she's close enough to have Jim pull her out with his phone stuck between his ear and shoulder.

"Say that again," Jim suddenly yells into the phone, nearly dropping his daughter when he hears what Irene said. "Say that again and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will _skin_ you." His voice had returned to its normal pitch as he set Thalia back on her feet, frowning when he realizes that his suit was now wet. Irene repeats herself, the new information bouncing around inside his head as he thinks of what it can be used for. "Wait." He moves the phone away, looking down at the ground thoughtfully for a moment before locking gazes with Sherlock again. "Sorry. Wrong day to die." Maybe sometime next year when the plans are all fully formed. He still had to make up a portfolio for Plan A and that alone would take a month at the least. _Who knew being an actual actor could be so much work?_

"Did you get a better offer?" He gives the phone in his hand brief attention before half-turning away from Sherlock, looking at the man over his shoulder.

"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock." He turns away completely now, wrapping his coat around Thalia's shoulders to prevent a cold as he leads them out of the disgusting place. "So if you have what you say you have," he says into the phone's speaker," I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll turn you into shoes." He snaps, signaling to Sebastian and Alicia to pack everything up and head back to the car.

"Am I in trouble," Thalia asks once outside, shivering in the early November cold. Jim looks down at her with an expression only parents are able to pull off, somewhere between menacing and irritated.

"Big trouble."


	4. Our Little Secret: Jim Moriarty

Moriarty wasn't sure at first what woke him out of his deep sleep until he heard the noise again, the soft pitter-patter against hardwood floors. It's too light to be Seb, plus, his pet was snoring beside him in bed. _Was there a mouse in the house?_ He listened harder without moving from the comfortable position he was in, his eyes staying closed, but his brow furrowed. No, the scratching of the rodent's claws are missing.

_A burglar?_ For their footsteps to be that light, the mouth-breather would have to be a woman or very small. That's it, his burglar is one of those little people that he screwed over back in Brazil! Wait, no, they were dead and buried. The only woman that comes to mind with the skill of breaking into one of the most secure houses in London is Irene Adler, but she was smarter than to do that when Moriarty was home. So, what is it?

A part of his mind, the part from childhood, placed a bet on a ghost, but Moriarty's adult self knew that this particular house was built not three years ago and no one had died in it or nearby. If it _was_ a ghost, then they had better be prepared to run towards that light because Jim wasn't above killing a person twice.

He opens his eyes, hearing a floorboard squeak and a quick intake of breath. One glance in Sebastian's direction and Moriarty knows that he wouldn't be waking anytime soon, so he'll have to deal with this intruder himself. With a quietly grumbled threat of mutilating the person's corpse, Jim pulls on his black silk robe and shuffled out of his room on light feet. He skipped over all of the squeaky floorboards—purposefully placed every few feet in no particular order in case someone did break in—and followed the noises of clinking china.

Was this person seriously making themselves a cup of tea for all their hard work? Moriarty lets out another, nearly silent, curse as he moves towards the room the sounds are coming from. He's dimly aware that a light in the kitchen is flipped on as he peers around the wall to see the intruder. They're tiny like he'd expected, their long blonde hair hanging down their back like a waterfall of corn silk, and their chubby little hands are digging around in the nearly empty cookie jar.

Now Moriarty understood why only one of his floorboards creaked; only two other people had a basic knowledge of the layout, his Tiger and his pet's little daughter. Feeling as amused as any man can feel at two in the morning, Moriarty flips on the overhead light and watches as the person's shoulders tense up. They slowly turn, cookie in hand, to face their judgement.

"Any particular reason you felt the urge to get a cookie this late, Missy," he asks dryly, walking to stand next to her. Thalia's standing on the small step stool she uses to wash her hands and still her head barely reaches the middle of Jim's stomach. She stares up at him with her dark blue eyes wide, the hand holding the cookie no longer steady as it had been a moment before. She's afraid he'd spank her or hand her over to her father. He grins down at her, reaching past her to pull a cookie out of the jar for himself before picking the little girl up and carrying her into the dining room, sitting her down on the tabletop. "You should always invite me before you go stealing my cookies." As she processed he hadn't sounded the alarm, she relaxes under his gaze and begins munching.

"We make more a'morrow," the three year old asks innocently, swinging her legs back and forth in the air. Jim joins her up on the table, wrapping an arm around her to make sure she didn't fall. Finding out Jim let his daughter get brain damage wouldn't exactly reassure Sebastian about moving in permanently, so Jim wasn't taking any chances where the little one was concerned.

"Of course, we can't let your papa in on our little secret." She giggles, snuggling closer to Jim even as the man stiffened slightly. This kind of touch, so gentle and clearly affectionate, is still foreign to Jim, but he's learning to accept her little embraces. After the pair had finished their cookies and scooted the jar back to its original position, Jim scoops the child up in his arms. "Now, Thalia, it's time for bed."

He drops her on the soft nest of sheets and blankets, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch up in a sort of smile when she giggles again. He was going to leave on that happy note, then she did the strangest, most unexpected thing. She wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug and whispered three words in the criminal's ear. "Night, night, Daddy." And he surprised himself when his body responded before his mind caught up, giving the child a hug in return.

"Sweet dreams, my Honeybear."


	5. Innocence: Jim Moriarty

Moriarty never had innocence in his life, not in the pure sense anyway, but looking down at the tiny bundle in Sebastian's arms, he knew this is what it was. A tiny little thing, brought into the world just hours ago and so untainted from the darkness that stains both of her parents.

Kelsey Mather was half-asleep in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and unable to stop grinning. Her little sister, Alicia, was seated beside her and going through a pile of documents on some dig or another that she was meant to be supervising in Egypt. The two didn't share much, but Jim had learned that they _did_, in fact, make the same face when he quoted poetry to drown them all out.

Sebastian held his new baby tenderly in his arms, the sniper tearing up, though he refused to let them fall in front of his boss and the Mather sisters. The little life in his arms stares up at him, her hand reaching up to run across his stubbly cheek, her mouth opening just enough for her tongue to peek out. She's so impossibly small, the reason being she was a month early, a pale pink and wrinkly. Jim wasn't sure what to make of her, this little thing that would be so easy to kill.

He knew how to kill everyone, he was a puppet master that pulled strings and made his dolls dance, but this little girl seemed unaware of how close to killers she is. Her mother was a conwoman turned hired gun, her father was the second most dangerous man in London, and Jim himself _is _the most dangerous man in London, so it wasn't hard to picture how to kill the child, it was habit by this point. Strangely, though, he didn't want to cause harm to this newborn. Every dark thought that passes through his head is followed by the bite of guilt. No, he would bring no harm to this little girl, he would make sure she was protected at all costs.

_She's too pure to suffer death's touch so soon after being born._

Such innocence shouldn't be snuffed out when this world was in dire need of it. Jim shakes his head, coming back to the present and watching as Sebastian handed his daughter back to her mother to be fed, the baby now beginning to fuss.

"What's her name," he asks, leading Sebastian out of the room to give the girls some privacy. He's been awake since late last night and Jim knew Sebastian could use some coffee.

"We had an argument about that," the sniper says, sipping some of the hospital coffee with a grimace. One look at Sebastian's disgusted expression has Jim throwing his own cup in the trash without even tasting it. "She demanded that our daughter shared her mother's name, but I can't stand the thought of my baby having the name Agnes and she can't stand the name Deirdre."

"What'd you guys settle on?"

"Thalia Grace Moran." Jim approved of it, thinking the name suited such a little thing. "I've something to ask you." He looks up at the taller man as they start walking back towards the room. "I know you don't believe in higher powers or anything, but Kelsey's is insistent on having Thalia baptized and she's decided that I can pick out the Godfather." Jim gives a half-interested hum, letting Sebastian know that he was kind of paying attention even as his thoughts began to run wild. "I've decided that I want you to be her Godfather."

"Why on Earth would you pick me?!" Jim forces Sebastian to stop, facing him with an incredulous expression.

"You won't let anyone touch her." He said it so matter-of-factly that Jim was having trouble coming up with a suitable argument on why Sebastian should choose someone else. "It's either you or my father." That settles it then, Jim would do anything to piss off Augustus even if it meant taking on partial responsibility for a kid.

"I'll do it."

It's when Sebastian walks away with a smile that Moriarty realized he'd just been tricked.


	6. The Babysitting Dilemma: Jim Moriarty

Jim wasn't entirely certain how to do this, this strange problem he was quite sure he'd never have to face until just two agonizingly long minutes ago. Why would Sebastian even think this was a good idea? This was a terrible idea! In all honesty, Jim was questioning whether or not Sebastian had lost the last marble that remained in that blond head of his. It's unavoidable right now, the damage was done, and there's no turning back.

He'd have to change Thalia's diaper.

It wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't wearing his best Westwood suit, but he is and Thalia smells like a garbage dump. _How does a child that small even create a smell so vile, so disgusting?_

He'd agreed to watch her for ten minutes while Sebastian ran to pick up something, but he didn't sign up for this. Jim shakes his head, staring down at the infant who looked so fucking innocent yet evil in the same way. Why couldn't she have waited to do this until her father returned? Better yet, why do babies this young even poop? He knew that answer, of course, but that didn't mean he accepted it in that moment.

He'd thought the worst thing he'd have to do is feed the little monster, but no, she didn't want the bottle and she's far too young to eat the leftover pudding he has in his fridge. The real question now was how to go about doing this without ruining his precious clothing.

Biting his lip, he lays Thalia down in her playpen, confident she couldn't get out when she couldn't even crawl yet. Still, he moves quickly through the house, discarding his suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, pulling on the frilly pink apron he makes Seb wear from time to time. He also pulls sandwich baggies out of a drawer, putting a couple over his shoes and some on his hands, then he moves to the basket of freshly laundered clothing, the few bits that weren't dry-clean only, and takes out a clothes pin, using it to make sure he wouldn't have to smell her any more than necessary. After that, he covers his table in newspaper, deciding if it works well enough for dogs then it would work just as well with his Goddaughter. The last items on his check list came from her diaper bag, and then he was ready to face her.

He brings the newborn over to the table and lays her down, the pair having a stare down as Jim thinks over how to do this. He sucks in a deep breath, holding it as he squeezes his eyes shut and moves his hands towards the little snaps of her onesie. Then the front door opens as he was mid-way through the motion, Sebastian walking in and pausing in the doorway.

"Eh, you going into battle, Boss," he asks with a laugh, walking over to Jim and Thalia.

"I was changing her diaper," he explains, ripping the bags off his hands and moving to throw them away. "But you can do it now." Sebastian leans close to his daughter, sniffing a little before pulling back.

"I hate to break it to you, but her diaper isn't dirty. She just has gas."

"What do you feed that thing?!"


	7. Funny Little Victories: Jim Moriarty

James Moriarty knew a lot of things: knew how to properly set up a bomb, how to dispose of a body and leave no evidence behind, how to come up with a plan that would get himself and Thalia the ultimate amount of candy on Halloween. Yes, Jim knew enough to be considered a genius, but there was one thing he didn't know and that was sign language. He was determined to learn it, to memorize every scrap of material about sign language that he could get his hands on.

It wasn't just a hobby, it wasn't something to do that would make the time pass by sooner, it was something he _had_ to do. He has to do this in order to get 'Bastian to move into his house with Jim. He had to because Sebastian and Thalia are a package deal, and Thalia is partially deaf. Well, deaf enough to warrant hearing aids and the people around her to use their hands when she wasn't wearing her little accessories.

So he'd set his mind to it, and the time came for him to prove his mastery over languages. He, Sebastian, and Thalia would spend the day together and it was a chance to prove to his sniper just how dedicated he was. Of course, no one was perfect, James Moriarty included as he quickly learned that Friday afternoon. Seeing as both men were in Oklahoma to pick her up for the weekend, they'd decided to go to the theme park nearby. Frontier City was just as cheesy as it sounded, but it was Thalia's favorite place to go in this state.

The two year old seemed to be in a particularly loving mood because she wrapped her little arms around James' neck and held on tight, forcing him to carry her to the children's part of the park. He didn't really mind it since she was clean and, not that he'd admit it to anyone, he'd missed wagging her around as he came up with new plans. He used to tell them to her before he knew she had hearing problems, whispering and playing with the pale wisps of her hair. She'd only been a few months old then, but she had looked up at him in a way that made him think she could understand.

Both men had to use sign language for her to understand them with so much noise around, her hearing aids tucked safely in the little Scooby-Doo pack on her back. The pack itself gives Jim a hint as to what to give her for her upcoming Easter present. She was certainly spoiled rotten between the gifts he bought her and the ones her aunt sent her from various places in Egypt.

By the time Jim came to the conclusion he wasn't, in fact, perfect was at lunch, when he'd signed to the little monkey on Sebastian's hip. He'd meant to ask her if she wanted some fries with her vanilla shake, but then Seb erupted into laughter and Thalia was giving him an astounded look. "What am I missing," Jim asks Seb in confusion, his brows drawn together. Once he got his breath back, Sebastian explains that Jim's sign language was slightly flawed and he owed Thalia ten dollars to put in her swear jar.

Because, he can't imagine how he'd messed up so horribly, he didn't ask if she wanted fries. Oh no, nothing could ever be so simple for him, of course not, why should he have it so easy? No, he'd asked her, an innocent two year old baby, if she wanted _hell_. Thalia was sold on him after that, his handing over ten precious dollars and then some extra for the horrible mix up earned him Thalia's blessing as long as the money and random little gifts kept coming. As Jim soon found out, he didn't mind spoiling the little girl. Especially when he realized the really noisy toys were sent to the house of one Sir Augustus Moran.

Yes, life really did have funny little victories.


	8. Dating the Enemy: Jim Moriarty

Moriarty didn't know what to think when he realized Thalia had a boyfriend. Sure, he felt a certain amount of pride upon realizing how long she'd been able to hide the signs of it, but then his other emotions caught up with the pride and he couldn't pinpoint which was stronger; there was the anger of her thinking she had to hide this from him, the disappointment of how utterly average the boy seemed, and the urge to mangle the kid for thinking he was good enough for Jim's little girl.

He stares at the teens through Seb's binoculars, watching as the pair sat at a table outside a bustling café, the young man reaching across the table to hold Thalia's hand. There's something familiar about the way the young man held himself, about his excellent bone structure and his hair... That's it! "Oh my _God_," Jim hisses in disgust.

"What is it, Boss," Sebastian asks from his spot in the room, sounding unconcerned about the fact that their daughter was canoodling with the son of their enemy.

"Our baby's dating a Holmes!" He struggles to keep his voice low, afraid that Thalia would hear it despite the fact that they were across the street and surrounded by noisy mouth-breathers. "That Hamish brat that used to taunt her in class!"

"Yes, and as I recall, she beat him up for that."

"Yes, yes, and both were suspended for three days, but that's not the point!" Jim shakes his head, letting out a sharp breath. How the hell can Seb be so calm about this? Normally he would be the first to interrogate the boy that thought he could dare date their daughter, but he's acting so calm now. No, this isn't acting, he really doesn't care. Jim's dark eyes widen with the realization. "You knew, didn't you?!" Sebastian looks over at his lover with a lazy smirk, his back resting against the wall of the flat and his legs stretched out on the floor in front of him. "You knew and you didn't tell me!"

"Because I knew this is how you'd react." The sniper shrugs, moving just enough to peek out the window and down at the couple below. "Look at her, Jim, and tell what emotions you see on her beautiful face." Jim does just that, hoping to find the disgust that used to grace her soft features at the mere thought of Hamish, but instead he finds something completely different. Jim's lips press together in a thin line, his hands clutching the binoculars so tightly that his knuckles were turning white as he notices the pair stand and Hamish placing a soft kiss on Thalia's lips, a kiss that Moriarty's baby returns. "Well?"

"Happiness," he finally relents through clinched teeth," she's happy around him and thinks she loves him."

"And what are you going to do when she brings him over tonight to introduce him to us?"

"Strangle him with my bear hands!" One look back at his tiger has him clearing his throat and trying to compose himself. He's seen that look several times when it comes to Thalia's personal life, it's the look that meant he'd be sleeping on the couch for a month if he fucked this up. "I mean, I'll play the part of a happy man even though I'm imagining all the tortures I can put the little brat through without killing him."

"That's better, Boss." Seb stands, extending a hand for Moriarty to take, then pulling him up with ease, trapping Jim against the wall and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "Mmm, James, you're growing up so fast." Seb laughs, ducking easily as Moriarty tries to punch him. The use of his first name had his knees weak, but the quip at the end had him ready to kill all over again. "Face it, Jim, our daughter is growing up and that means having a boyfriend." Yes, but that doesn't mean she should date Hamish Watson-Holmes.

* * *

The girl that showed up with Hamish had John doing a double-take, his jaw nearly dropping to the ground. It's quite obvious who her father was considering how similar they looked, but he had a difficult time discerning why she was in his flat and why she was holding hands with Hamish. "Eh," he stutters. "Uh, um, Sherlock?!" Said man walks into the sitting room, protective goggles on and a human head clasped in his hands.

"What is it, John, I'm in the middle of... Something..." His head tilts to the side, pale eyes studying the young lady in front of him. She moves to stand slightly behind Hamish, clutching his hand tightly with her head ducked down. "Thalia Moran," he says after a moment. "So you're the one keeping Hamish out at odd hours." He didn't care who his son dated, never saw the point of worrying like John did, but it would be interesting now that Hamish is dating the daughter of two of the most powerful men in the world.

"Hello," Thalia says, Hamish giving her a gentle push forward. "It's nice to finally meet you two."

"But," John says, shaking his head a little," your parents...?"

"Only Sebastian knows," Hamish informs the pair, Thalia nodding in agreement," he's got Dad's attitude about this, though I think her daddy will be rather angry when he finds out. He was watching us on our date just today." Another nod from Thalia.

"Well," Sherlock says, delivering an awkward pat to Thalia's shoulder," welcome to the family." John had an idea about what Sherlock was thinking, that it would be fun to find out what Moriarty planned to do about this without seriously damaging the children, but John wanted no part of it whatsoever.

After all, last time he got involved with Moriarty and Moran, he ended up getting shot in the foot.


	9. Did you Miss me 2: Hamish Watson-Holmes

Something was different, of that much Hamish was absolutely certain. There was something not quite normal happening in 221b Baker Street and it involved his dad and a man that looked mysteriously like Hamish himself. Since the man shares several of the seven year old's features, from his unruly curls to his height, the man could only be one person.

As it is, Hamish's dad was throwing kitchen utensils at the other man's head, shouting obscenities and curses, the likes of which Hamish has only heard a few times, once when Thalia Moran's papa nearly shot John in the foot and the other time when Thalia's other father threatened to kill Hamish if Thalia's science project was ruined since the pair were partners at the time.

One phrase that caught Hamish's attention was shouted not long after he entered the kitchen, confirming what he already knew. "Who wouldn't be angry," John shouted, throwing a wooden spoon and nailing the other man in the thigh with it," you ate all of my cereal and faked your death for two years!"

"You're Sherlock Holmes," Hamish states, stepping between the two men before any other utensils could be thrown, John's fingers wrapped around the handle of a spatula. More specifically, the one Hamish and Mrs. Hudson had bought him just a few months ago for making pancakes on Friday mornings. The strange man lowers his arms from a defensive position, looking Hamish over intently from the top of his head to the worn shoes on his feet and back again.

"And you..." He trails off, brows knitting together before he rolls his eyes and throws his arms up. "Of course, Irene is behind this." _Irene Adler_, Hamish recalls, _my biological mother_. "You're my son. What did she name the boy, John?"

"The boy can speak for himself." Hamish's stern tone matches John's to a tee, obviously giving Sherlock a small shock as he looks at the child in a new light. "And my name is Hamish." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, unaware of the fact that he stood just a tad straighter to make up for the height difference between himself and Sherlock. He'd only ever seen this man in photographs his mother provided until now. "You're also late, I've been here for two years and I've only ever had Dad to help me with my homework. It's advanced stuff and he doesn't always understand, but he tries."

"Now, hold on," John says indignantly, well aware of how smart his adoptive son was. "Not all of us have genius, not to mention _arsehole_, fathers." Hamish and Sherlock both give John the same smirk, just a lifting of the same corner of their mouths, and neither of them were aware of how similar they were in that moment. "Fine, that's fantastic, you help Hamish with his homework and I'll be downstairs with Mrs. Hudson." John turned and walked out of the messy kitchen. "My show's on anyway," he mutters as he shuts the door to the flat and stomps downstairs where his landlady was waiting for him.

Meanwhile, in a large house in the country, James Moriarty was having a pillow thrown at his head by a very angry seven year old girl whose movie his fat head had just interrupted.


	10. Thalia's Happy day: Sebastian Moran

Sebastian was uncomfortable at best, his gaze continually moving around the crowded ballroom. The sniper wasn't used to this kind of setting, to not having to constantly hide who he is when surrounded by London's finest, but his daughter had arranged it for today only, a temporary moment of peace for the happy pair dancing the night away. Jim looked at ease, an easy smile on his lips as his obsidian eyes dart from face to face of the people surrounding them. At least he was comfortable, though that may have something to do with the fact that he was able to torment his enemy without saying a word.

Sebastian's cool gaze moves from the face of his husband to the smiling face of his daughter. Thalia looked truly beautiful today, dressed in a pale peach dress that swirled around her legs whenever young Hamish twirled her around. She was happy, happier than Sebastian has ever seen her, and that's what makes all of this hassle worth it. He looks at Hamish next, finding the same happiness burning brightly in the young man's eyes, eyes so like Sherlock's that it was almost too strange for words. Hamish's hair is a shade lighter, but that was the only thing that really resembled his mother.

Irene Adler sat at a table across the room, sending sly smirks in Sherlock's direction that Sherlock easily ignored as he watched the dancing couple intently. _His_ husband, however, had eyes only for Sebastian and Jim. He didn't trust them not to do something that would ruin the happy day, but Sebastian had everything under control. Besides, James was introduced to the meaning of fear when Thalia promised him a fate worse than death if the criminal screwed this day up: She had promised to burn each and every one of his favorite suits and make him watch as the expensive fabric turned to ash before his eyes.

Personally, Sebastian had loved the fear that sparked in his husband's eyes at the threat, proud that his daughter could cause it because that meant she could do it to Hamish if he tried to do anything she didn't approve of. He wouldn't have to worry about her, she knew how to handle things that needed to be handled, and she did so with grace. But even knowing all of that, a part of him _did_ worry, it worried so much that he just wanted to pick Thalia up and never stop running until she was safe away from the dangers of the world. She's his baby, his only child, and he was probably more protective of her than most fathers are of their little girls. She's twenty-three now, a woman grown, but he still saw the little girl that would come to him when she had bad dreams.

"You look tense," Jim drawls, his finger working its way around the rim of his champagne flute.

"It just doesn't seem possible that she's getting married," Seb returns, nervously tapping the table with his knuckles.

"Mm-hm, except she's not getting married, she already is married. Remember, you walked her down the aisle of that giant church and sent a death glare at our new son-in-law through the entire thing? Poor kid looked like he was about to wet himself." Sebastian remembers that fondly, he remembers the subtle shaking of Hamish's hand as he envelopes Thalia's hands with his. Sebastian also remembers the night before, when he had threatened Hamish with a slow death if anything tragic befell Thalia.

It's not until a small hand tapped his shoulder that Sebastian is brought back to the real world, finding his daughter smiling down at him with her hand outstretched. "Come dance with me, Papa," she commands softly. He can't stop his own smile despite his worry, taking her hand and leading her out to the middle of the room near where Molly and Lestrade were dancing.

For a brief moment, as Sebastian twirls his daughter around on the dance floor, Thalia is his little girl again and they're dancing in the living room of their flat with an old rock song playing softly. Nothing else exists in the room except for his baby girl, the baby girl that grew up much too fast without Sebastian's approval. It was in that moment, before James smoothly cut in, that Seb realized that he wasn't losing his baby, and if Hamish has a problem with Sebastian visiting, then the young man was in for a big disappointment.


	11. A Heavy Burden: Thalia and Hamish

Thalia wasn't quite sure when it had happened since they'd always been such rivals in everything—even in gym class where both were lacking—so it didn't seem to make sense when she first discovered that Hamish Watson-Holmes was attractive. Her mind could barely process such thoughts since much louder thoughts were drowning them out, thoughts like," he's your enemy, he can't be hot!" So she tried harder in everything she did until she just couldn't take the pressure of succeeding anymore and hid in the locker room of the gym that was no longer in use. No one would think to look for her in there, not Thalia Moran, she was too stuck up to skip class. But here she was, curled up in a ball and trying not to cry.

It was hard to keep her grades up and deal with the other kids' cruel words at the same time; they made fun of her for having two dads, they made fun of her for being a virgin, made fun of her because she wasn't the prettiest girl in school. Sure, she had a big brother that helped when it came to bullies, but Alex couldn't be around all the time. She'd shouldered the taunting for years until a B-minus on her history essay sent her over the edge. She couldn't do it today, she didn't want to be Thalia Moran in that moment, she wanted to be someone normal like the kids that surrounded her every day.

Unfortunately for her, Hamish had the same thoughts that led him to skipping his advanced placement calculus class and heading for the abandoned gym. He'd gotten an even worse grade on his English paper and felt like taking his anger out on the punching bag he had hidden in the locker room.

When he first entered the room, he didn't really notice anything out of the ordinary until he heard a faint sniffle and the sounds of someone crying. His curiosity rising, he tiptoes further into the room and finds his rival curled up in the corner, her history essay crumpled up on the ground beside her, and her eyes red and puffy. His first thought was to taunt the girl—they did hate each other after all—but he didn't feel like it today, so he sat on the cold ground beside her and patted her shoulder awkwardly. She scoots just out of his reach, trying her hardest to stop the tears from falling.

"Bad day," he asks after a moment.

"You could say that," she returns quietly. And while she tried to compose herself, Hamish studied her like he never had before. Sure, he knew she was a girl, but she was also one of the only people in the school that had a thought process similar to Hamish's. Her strawberry blonde hair fell down her back, straight except for a small curl at the ends, her skin was pale like his own, and her eyes were always wide; she wasn't exactly skinny, but she wasn't chunky either, and her fingers were long and slim. She didn't meet the beauty standards set by the teenagers in the school, but he didn't think she was ugly like a lot of the boys and girls said when she outsmarted them in class. "Why are you skipping?"

"Didn't feel like being the smart kid today." She nods, slowly sitting up straighter and looking over at him.

"Me either." And the pair sat like that until Thalia began to shiver, then Hamish scooted over and wrapped his thick coat around her shoulders. That's when it started, the real attraction that went beyond their looks, and Thalia would realize that years down the road when her daughter inquired about it. There were rumors when the fourteen year olds emerged from the gym, their cheeks and noses red from cold, and the pair ignored them as they always had, but this time they did it together and didn't have to shoulder the abuse alone.

This time they had each other to lean on.


	12. The Circle of Life: Sebastian Moran

Sebastian's day of work had been longer than most, or felt like it, and he would just be glad to get back to his loft where his daughter and lover were waiting for him. A smile managed to break through his stoic expression at the thought of the two of them, Thalia was unusually well-behaved for a baby, which was a good thing since Jim made a terrible babysitter at the best of times.

He could only hope that Jim had at least tried to keep an eye on her, but he wouldn't be surprised if the two year old wasn't in one piece and hadn't swallowed anything that might cause her to spontaneously combust. As much as Sebastian loved the pair, they were both hard-headed and often ended their arguments—if you could call a two year old and a thirty-two year old screaming at each other a real argument—by throwing stuffed animals at each other from opposite sides of the room.

No matter how much the kid got on his nerves, they always teamed up against Sebastian's father when he came to visit. It never failed that the older man left the loft, his face beet red, the vein in his forehead throbbing, and a few creative insults thrown over his shoulder at Jim and "that ungrateful brat you call a daughter." Of course, Sebastian wasn't complaining since his father was gone after only visiting for five minutes once every three months. The only reason the man bothered to visit at all was because of Sebastian's mother, who could bend anyone to her will with a simple look.

Smiling wider now, Sebastian walks into the loft he shares with Jim, skillfully stepping around the several toys and bullet casings that litter the front hall and living room. From the back of the house, he could hear The Lion King and could deduce that his family was in Thalia's room.

Not ready to face the inevitable just yet, Sebastian pulls off his coat and throws it on the couch, beginning to straighten the house up from today's mess; bullet casings went into the locked filing cabinet in Sebastian's office, the toys go in the toy room that Thalia rarely played in, the clothes go in the laundry room, the plates in the kitchen, and the finger painting kit goes in the trash in order to avoid having anymore bright pink handprints on his expensive couch that happened to be made of white leather.

Once the front of the house looked a little less like a twister ransacked the place, Sebastian moves towards Thalia's bedroom. On a normal afternoon if things had gone well, Jim and Thalia would watch a movie on the flat screen in Thalia's room where, hopefully, Thalia would nap until Sebastian returned to cook dinner. Now, sometimes Jim would take a nap as well, and he'd find the two snoring with Jim's legs hanging off the edge of her small bed. What he found today, however, was entirely unexpected and made him snap a quick picture before Jim could catch him.

Jim was standing in the middle of Thalia's room, the child held aloft in his arms and he was singing_," It's the circle of life, and it moves us all through despair and_..." Jim's eyes widen when the flash of Sebastian's phone nearly blinds him, and then he realizes what just happened. "Delete it," he commands as Sebastian turns and begins to walk towards the kitchen, laughing the entire time. He can hear Jim chasing after him, followed by the smaller footsteps of his daughter hurrying to catch up. "Delete it or I'll turn you into a lampshade!"

"_It's the circle of life_," Sebastian mocks, his eyes tearing up.


	13. Finished: Jim Moriarty

Moriarty had never truly felt fear until now and he doesn't like it one little bit. Panic and horror were suffocating him as he kept his coat over the wound, trying desperately to get the blood to stop flowing as he waited impatiently for the ambulance. This wasn't supposed to be happening, no one was ever supposed to know where James Moriarty kept his heart. But someone found out and now the price was being paid.

They had been walking down the street, just enjoying the familiar sounds of the city, when they heard what sounded like a car backfiring before all the panic began. Both of them dropped to the ground and Jim wasn't sure why until he looked to his left. She was lying there, the front of her blouse turning crimson and her eyes looking around wildly. "Daddy," she gasped, blood spattered across her face and pooling on the sidewalk beneath her.

"No," he mumbles over and over as Thalia's breathing grows shallow. Sirens were growing louder, but Jim's scream of anguish was louder still. As the paramedics pushed him aside, Jim felt his perfect world begin to shatter. This couldn't happen to his Honeybear, she had two fathers that loved her more than anything in the world, a husband that worshiped her, and two children that adored her. She was only thirty-two for Christ sakes!

But Thalia Grace Holmes wouldn't make it to thirty-three and her killer was found three weeks after she died in the hospital, the murderer's body too mutilated to identify and a single word written in blood beside the corpse.

_Finished._


	14. Birthday Drama: Sebastian Moran

Sebastian had seen a lot of things since he started working with James Moriarty, but the sight in front of him really took the cake. Speaking of cake, most of the bright pink frosting of a small cake was smeared right down the front of one of Jim's favorite Armani jackets. The room had gone completely silent the second the icing was thrown, a tense, uncomfortable one that no one except the birthday girl was oblivious of.

Jim, his face beat red, was staring down at the toddler with such a look of offense that it would have been comical if it wasn't coming from a man that committed murder for the shits and giggles. His left eye was twitching the way it did when he was particularly upset, and Sebastian was slowly inching forward in case he had to intervene.

He'd seen this man shoot a guy point blank just for sneezing in his direction, but this was _icing_ and _Jim's favorite jacket_ and, to tell the truth, Sebastian would be really upset if he had to shoot his own boss in the face.

Jim was opening his mouth, probably already having a long tirade on the tip of his tongue, when the baby _giggles_. The world as Jim knew it was crumbling to the ground and Thalia was giggling at him like it was the funniest thing ever. _My daughter has a bigger set of cojones than I do_.

But that simple gesture of delight, that she wasn't at all frightened by James fucking Moriarty, had Jim relaxing just the slightest amount. Another giggle and Jim's eye stopped twitching and his jacket was thrown in the garbage can.

"You're lucky it's your birthday," Jim tells her as seriously as any grown man can talk to a one year old," otherwise I would be forced to drop your cake on your head." But there was no menace in his tone and Thalia seemed to know it, reaching out one little hand to add some frosting to Jim's nose.

"You okay, Boss," Sebastian checks as Jim's frown becomes more pronounced. After all, this was a man who hated getting his hands dirty on Thursdays and now had a ruined jacket and a bright pink, vanilla-scented nose. Jim, ever the snob, gives a prim little sniff before taking up a handful of frosting and rubbing it all over the blonde tuft of hair that covered Thalia's head.

"That's called payback, Missy."


	15. A Day at the Zoo: Jim Moriarty

The day Thalia said her first word was a momentous one for Jim, though Sebastian was a bit put out about the whole thing. Jim knew why, but it only served to make his ego swell as he took the toddler in his arms and held her proudly against his chest. The moment had happened when the three of them were walking around the zoo, Thalia resting on Seb's broad shoulders with her chubby hands occasionally patting his head when she saw a particularly interesting animal.

They had just stopped in front of the elephant exhibit and Seb placed his daughter on her feet so she could grasp the bars of the enclosure. Jim wasn't fond of elephants, too smelly, but the one-and-a-half-year-old thought they were the best things ever and even had three National Geographic magazines about the stupid things.

A string of gibberish left her mouth as she pointed at the largest one, looking at the men over her shoulder with a broad grin. It was obvious that she was having the time of her life, her hearing aids allowing her to actually hear the elephants this time around. She'd just received the little devices two weeks ago, the best that money could buy because Jim would allow his Goddaughter to have nothing else, and she was having a field day with actually hearing things now.

They all stood there for a good five minutes, both men staring down at the blonde fondly as she stared at the two elephants with wide eyes. She was in awe of them and Jim knew she would have reached out to pet one had the fence not been taller than she was. A moment longer and she was ready to continue walking, turning to face her father and Jim. She gave them another big smile before raising her arms to be picked up. That's when it happened, her first real word coming out and addressed to Jim.

"Daddy!" Jim froze for a second, dark eyes turning to his boyfriend to see an identical expression of disbelief on his face. Then Seb scowled down at the baby, like she had just offended him to his very soul, and Jim scooped Thalia up with a devious grin.

"At least she has good taste, Tiger."


	16. Telling Tales and Tippy-Toes: Sebastian

The day Jim burst into the loft demanding to know how good Sebastian's camera operating skills were was also the day that Thalia happened to be practicing for her ballet class. Now not only did he have a hyper child convinced that she could rise up onto her tippy-toes without assistance, he had a husband that was attempting to put up a green screen without help as well.

_Yeah, neither of them are stubborn, of course not_.

"Papa, look!" He turns to glance at his daughter, spotting her as she managed to get halfway to her goal.

"Great job, Honeybear," he praises with a bright grin. She returns the smile, racing over to him and holding up her fist for the customary knuckles whenever she did something good. He didn't hesitate, lightly bumping his fist against hers and then ruffling her hair. She pushes his hand away and sends him an exasperated look that only five year olds (and Jim most days) could manage. "Jim, you ever gonna be ready over there?"

"Thalia," Jim calls without turning," cover your ears, darling." She does so without having to be told twice, swaying slightly back and forth as she waited. "Sebastian, kindly go fuck yourself." Seb snorts, tapping his daughter's nose to let her know it's okay to uncover her ears. "Ah, finally!" He jumps down off the back of the couch and to the floor, stepping back with his hands on his hips to get a good look at the green curtain he'd pinned up.

"It's crooked," Thalia says after a moment.

"Not if you tilt your head to the right and squint a little." Thalia and Seb both tilt their heads in time with Jim, Seb biting back a remark about the curtain being as straight as himself, but there were little ears and he'd file the remark away for another time. "It'll do for now since no one will see the top of it."

"But I see it." Jim's nose twitches and Sebastian can see how hard it is for the other man to keep his frustration in check.

"Don't you have something to be doing instead of annoying me?" She gives him her best innocent smile, making sure her eyes were wide to match the effect. Sebastian had to give it to her, she could be a good little actress when she wanted to be.

"Nope." He lets out a huff of air and seats himself on a kitchen stool he'd dragged into the living room.

"Get on with it, Tiger." Seb brings the camcorder up, making sure there was a tape in it before turning it on and setting it to record whatever Jim wanted done. Watching his husband work was an amazing thing, Jim's posture completely changing to an open one that reminded Seb of his first nanny. "Hello," he greets in a pleasant tone. "Are you ready for the story?"

"What story?" Without looking away, Sebastian delivers a light pat to Thalia's head, international father-daughter code for _shut up, sweetheart_. She mimes zipping her lips, content to stand beside him and watch the performance.

"This is the story of Sir Boast-A-Lot, the bravest and cleverest knight at the round table. But soon, the other knights began to grow jealous of him and his fantastical stories of dragon slaying." Slowly, Jim's brows furrowed to go along with the story, completely absorbed in his role. "And soon they began to wonder, are Sir Boast-A-Lot's stories even true?"

"They're not," Thalia whispers. Seb spares her another look, finding her completely enraptured in the story.

"And so one of the knights went to King Arthur and said,' I don't believe Sir Boast-A-Lot's stories.'" Jim's voice has dropped to a whisper and Seb found himself leaning forward a bit to hear him better. "'He's just a big fat liar that makes up stories to make everyone think he's cool and smart.' And just like that, with that small bit of suspicion from the others, even King Arthur began to wonder…." He brings a knuckle up to rest against his chin, feigning to be deep in thought.

"Oh no."

"But that wasn't the end of Sir Boast-A-Lot's problem. Oh, far from it. That wasn't the final problem. The end," Jim finishes in a sweet, high pitch, giving a big grin at the camera. And just like that, he wasn't the Storyteller, he was the man that randomly danced with Thalia and took Sebastian out on romantic murder sprees. "What'd you think?"

"What happened to Sir Boast-A-Lot," Thalia demands as Jim came to stand next to them.

"That remains to be seen, Honeybear." He grins down at her and rests a hand on her head, looking like he was attempting to memorize every feature before finally turning those dark eyes on Sebastian. It was like a lightning bolt to his system, that gaze full of all sorts of emotions, all swirling together in a way that had Sebastian wanting to drag Jim in for a deep, rough kiss. "What'd you think, Sebastian?"

"I think the Storyteller better watch after himself."


	17. Little Bitty Bullet Wounds: Jim Moriarty

It isn't often that Sebastian actually gets hurt on a mission, let alone hurt bad enough to warrant a week's stay in St. Bart's. After a deal gone bad, Seb had been shot clean through the abdomen and again in the shoulder, meaning he'd need an actual doctor to check him out and probably a strong man to sit on his chest until the anesthetic kicked in and knocked his ass out.

It was the second day after he was admitted that Jim brought Thalia to see him, the three year old obediently holding her daddy's hand as he led her through the maze of halls and elevators to the best room money could buy. It was private and had an amazing view of the city, but the curtains were drawn and the smell of disinfectant stung Jim's nose. And there was Sebastian, lying in the hospital bed, sound asleep with all kinds of wires hooked up to him and machines beeping. To be frank, he looked awful; bruised knuckles, bruising around his eyes from where his nose had been broken and reset, white gauze covering the shoulder wound while the hospital gown covered the abdominal one, all color drained from his face.

It was a tug on his trousers that made Jim tear his gaze away, brown eyes resting on the little girl standing next to him. She looked horrified to see her papa in such a state, blue eyes wide and filled with tears. Of course, she would react like this, her papa was supposed to be invincible, a superhero that beat up the good guys and occasionally came home with ice cream.

Her little chest was heaving as she readied herself for a hysterical fit of sobbing and snot, but Jim quickly scooped her up and brought her over to the window so she couldn't see Seb. "It's alright," he murmurs against her hair, taking comfort in the familiar scent of strawberries," it's going to be just fine, Honeybear."

"But Papa," she says, voice all shaky from the tears she was gallantly fighting back.

"I know, but your papa will pull through this just fine. All he needs is rest and hugs." She buries her face in the crook of his neck and Jim rests his cheek against her head, opening the curtains just enough for a strip of sunlight to stream into the dark room. His Honeybear didn't like the dark quite yet and there was no point in scaring her more than she already is.

"I don't like this place."

"_A little bitty baby in a little bitty gown_," he begins to sing automatically, the only song that really calms her down," _it'll grow up in a little bitty town. A big yellow bus and little bitty books, it all started with a little bitty look._" Just a few words in and her trembling has stopped, but the wetness sliding down his chest was undoubtedly her tears. "_Well, it's alright to be little bitty, a little hometown or a big ol' city. Might as well share, might as well smile, life goes on for a little bitty while_."

"I thought you hated that song." Jim whirls around to find Sebastian staring at them with a fond smile, though he still looked exhausted. What was that saying Seb's ex-wife was so fond of? Oh, that's it, like he went ten rounds with a twister and came out on the losing end. _She may be an annoying bumpkin, but Kelsey spouts out some interesting sayings from time to time_.

"Our daughter doesn't." Seb's smile turns into a grimace of pain as he attempts to sit up, eventually just relying on the remote control to raise the upper half of his bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty much how I look." His blue eyes focus on the little girl resting on Jim's hip, softening in a way they never did for anyone else. Sure, Sebastian definitely let his guard down around Jim, even loved him, but it wasn't the same as when he looked at his daughter. "And how's my little Honeybear doing?" Thalia slowly raises her head to look at her papa, bottom lip wobbling again. "Come here, darling."

"Are you sure?"

"Do you really have to ask that, Jim?" Rolling his eyes at the attitude, he gently deposits his daughter on the bed and watches as she immediately launches herself against Seb. She may be a whirlwind on most afternoons, but she was also the world's greatest cuddle monster and no amount of wires would stop her from curling up next to her papa. "Hey, sweetheart, don't cry."

"You look bad," she says around a sob, wrapping her thin arms tightly around Seb's neck. "I don't want my papa to be hurt!"

"I'm not too fond of it either." Seb wraps a protective arm around her and keeps her close, completely relaxing into the hug. Jim had a theory that Thalia's hugs were addicting; after all, why else would he of all people adore them? He was a man that went without hugs as often as possible, but then this little blonde entered his life and he couldn't get enough of them.

"Promise me you'll always be okay." There was a moment of silence where Seb and Jim shared a look of understanding, both of them knowing he would never be able to keep that promise, but she was their little girl and how could he not try to reassure her?

"I promise you that I'll always find my way back to you." That seemed to pacify her fears, her grip still tight on him, but the desperate sobbing abating. "Isn't it your naptime, young lady?"

"Daddy said I could skip it today." Honestly, Jim figured she would fall asleep on the way to the hospital, but she had stayed wide awake and clutching his hand like a lifeline. Kids always knew when something wasn't right, it was like a sixth sense they had, and no amount of diamond-studded jewelry would put Thalia Moran off the scent of trouble when people she loved were involved. Now that she knew her papa would be alright and that the danger was over, her eyelids were beginning to droop and she was yawning more frequently.

Seb smiles down at her, rubbing her back soothingly like he used to do when she was just an infant. Jim was tired as well and it wasn't long before he pulled the chair closer to the bed so he could hold Seb's hand. The bed wasn't nearly big enough for all three of them, so Jim would make due until Seb came home. "_You know you got a job and a little bitty check_," Seb picks up, voice soft and comforting," _a six pack of beer and a television set. Little bitty world goes around and around…."_

Jim barely registers his own eyes closing or the fact that he was drifting off into dreamland, only focused on how great of a singer Sebastian was when he put his mind to it.

_"…. Little bit of silence and a little bit of sound_."


	18. Take my Heart: Sebastian Moran

Valentine's Day had never really been a big deal to Sebastian, all he'd do was send a text to Jim and make sure his daughter had heart-shaped pancakes for her breakfast. Simple, easy, all things Seb could manage in less than an hour. Jim would usually take the day off to spend with the two of them, sleeping in for some cuddling—not that the master criminal would ever admit to being the little spoon—and curling up on the couch with Thalia in his lap as they watched a John Wayne movie.

That's why Seb was so confused when he woke up that morning to find himself alone in bed. Jim's side was already cold, the blanket and sheet tucked neatly beneath the silk pillow. Furrowing his brows, Seb reluctantly leaves the warmth of the bed and pads across the room to the dresser, digging out of a pair socks to put on before yanking a tee over his head and heading out of the room.

The house was quiet and that put him on edge, used to hearing bickering first thing in the morning over whether cartoons or the morning news was more important. Seb moves down the hall and pops his head into his daughter's room, finding it empty and the bed made with her stuffed elephant toy sitting perfectly in the middle of a pink, frilly pillow. More confused than ever since his daughter was never awake before seven, he moves into the living room.

That's where he found them, huddled together over something on the low coffee table, still in their pajamas with tousled hair. It was always weird to see Jim wearing something other than a suit, but to see him in _bunny slippers_ was completely baffling. "Uh," he manages, head tilted to the side," Boss?" Jim turns to look at him, then follows his gaze to the slippers with a lazy smile.

"They were a gift," he answers. "Honeybear forced her mother to order them for me." _Well, that explains why Kelsey had called two weeks ago to ask about Jim's shoe size_. And of course Jim would be wearing them proudly, he was always happy when the two year old bought him something.

"What are the two of you doing up so early?"

"Working on a project." Seb moved to see what they were working on, but Jim gave him a warning look. "Uh-uh, you go make breakfast and we'll bring this to you when we're finished, Tiger." It wasn't exactly reassuring, but Thalia was grinning excitedly and Seb figured it couldn't be anything too awful if it caused that reaction in his little girl.

With a shrug, he moved into the kitchen and got to work. He mixed the pancake ingredients together and poured the batter into an old bottle, squeezing it out into a skillet in the shape of a heart. It was a tradition that he and his ex-wife had started once Thalia could eat solid foods, though the pancakes had been baby-sized back then with just a dollop of whipped cream. At two, Thalia had graduated to larger pancakes and enough whipped cream to spell out her name.

It didn't take long for the food to get done, Seb moving them to plates and working with the syrup and whipped cream as he waited on the coffee. He was careful not to put too much syrup on Jim's pancakes, knowing all too well how the man hated getting his hands sticky. It was something that Thalia was beginning to pick up as well, having a small meltdown if she got too dirty, though baby wipes had saved the day on more than one occasion.

By the time he had coffee set on the table and a small cup of juice out for his daughter, the pair in question were making their way into the dining room. Jim had her securely in his arms, but what really caught Sebastian's attention was the bulky card that Thalia was waving around. "Daddy helped," she says around a smile.

"Daddy did more than help," Jim retorts, but his voice was playful. Seb takes the card, smiling at the childish scribbles on the front that were meant to be hearts and Jim's immaculate cursive spelling out _Happy Valentine's Day Tiger_. He flips the cover open, his smile replaced with a frown. The writing inside was as perfect as the writing on the front, the cheesy lyrics from that Nat King Cole song about love, but what was sewed to the paper left Seb wondering how scarred his daughter will be by the time she's three.

Because only James Moriarty would sew an _actual human heart_ to a Valentine's Day card.


	19. Connecting the Dots: Alex Hawkins

Alex Hawkins was only eight when every screen in England was hijacked by a man with slicked back hair, the phrase _miss me_ repeating over and over, coming from every direction until it seemed to drown out the sounds of people and honking cars. The man looked vaguely familiar, but Alex couldn't really pin it down to any one memory that would shed light. Figuring it was some kind of stunt, he looked up at his mother and expected her to say something about the silliness of people these days, but he finds her frozen with her mouth hanging open.

"Mama," he asks, tugging gently on her coat sleeve. "What is it?"

"Oh, God," she breathes, hand shaking as she grips Alex's shoulder tightly," he's _alive_."

"Who is he?" It seemed to take all her strength to tear her gaze away from the massive screen in the middle of London, tears making her dark eyes glisten, but she didn't allow them to fall. He'd never seen his mother cry before, she was always strong and happy despite everything she went through.

"Come on, we need to go to the house." _The house_, not _home_, the distinction was important considering the former was a safe-house in Drogheda right above a bookshop. She tries to pull him along with her, but Alex resists and shrugs her hand off of his shoulder. "Alexander Davin Hawkins, you listen to me!"

"Answer my question first." If nothing else, Alex was extremely stubborn to the point of annoyance. His mother always pointed it out, but she was beginning to panic as the deep, Irish drawl continued to repeat. Alex liked the sound of it, recognizing it from somewhere, singing lullabies. "Please, Mama." He widened his eyes and stuck out his bottom lip in a pout he knew his mother couldn't resist.

"He's…." He'd never seen his mother so flustered, not even after learning Sherlock Holmes had used her to get at her boss. "He's a real bastard, now move it." Frowning, Alex allows his mom to grab the back of his jacket and pull him after her, struggling to keep up with her long stride. Even in heels, Janine could probably outrun an Olympic sprinter.

"Was he around when I was little?"

"Why?" He voice was strained and almost angry, like she couldn't believe he'd ask her that. He didn't understand, but he knew he probably wouldn't get any real answers soon. "He's no one you need to know, honey." Alex moves as fast as he can, the two of them practically running all the way back to their temporary flat. Boxes were piled up all over the place as they'd been preparing to move to a cottage in Sussex Downs, but it seemed that would be put off until his mother felt safe. "Go to your room and get your emergency suitcase."

"Yes, Mama." He knew better than to argue when it came to emergencies, though that didn't stop him from dragging his feet all the way to his bedroom. He makes it all the way there without incident, but pauses when he finds a blonde girl perched on the edge of his bed, hair in pigtails and a stuffed elephant toy in her hands. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"My daddy wants to talk to your mama," she answers with a shrug. Alex recognized her from school, but she was a year below him and he didn't like playing with girls. "You're Alex Hawkins, right? You punched that bully that pushed me down last month." That's right, he did. The older boy had been picking on her because she had two dads, but Alex had put a stop to it with a carefully aimed left hook that Mary Watson had taught him.

"That's right." He shuffles awkwardly in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his coat. He didn't know what to do, he's never had a girl in his room before and he didn't really like that she'd made herself at home.

"Alex!" His mother's shout had Alex running before he realized exactly what was happening, skidding to a stop in the dining room when he found a blond man sitting at the table. He looked a lot like the little girl and Alex realized he must be her daddy when she comes inside and crawls up onto the stranger's lap. Janine quickly latches onto Alex, pushing him behind her so she was between him and the weirdos invading their home. "Why are you here, Moran?" _That's her name, Thalia Moran_.

"Boss sent me," the man answers. His accent was a bit rough, but Alex could still hear the posh drawl most aristocrats had. "As you can tell, he's come back from the dead."

"Always was dramatic. _Why are you here?_ He's never pulled a public stunt like this before, never sent his pet to check up on us, so why now?" The man's eyes flick to Alex, taking in the ruffled black hair, pale skin, and brown eyes that seemed to inspect every inch of the stranger. He was smarter than most of the kids in his class, but Alex figured he inherited that from his mom.

"He wants to be more involved now that he knows he can handle it. His…. Er, doom and gloom days don't happen so often anymore." Alex glances up at his mom, seeing the hard resolve in the way she tensed her jaw and the defiance burning in her eyes. Janine Hawkins could stand up to anyone and come out on the winning side.

"What happens if I say no?"

"The checks keep coming, he stays away, and you can pretend this never happened." The man shrugs just like his daughter had earlier, completely at ease. Thalia was reclined against him, playing with the floppy ears of her stuffed animal like this was a standard situation. "That display with the TVs isn't for you anyway, it's for a _friend_ in the government." For a while Alex was sure his mom would toss these two out on their heads, but she eventually gave a curt nod of her head. "Wonderful." He pulls a phone out of his pocket and presses something before replacing it.

"Is Daddy coming in now," Thalia asks hopefully.

"Yes, Daddy's coming."

"She's not his," Janine states, dark brows furrowing over her eyes.

"No, but he's helped to look after her ever since she was born. My ex-wife didn't mind sharing her and it was a lifesaver when she was still an infant."

"Yes, I remember that he had a gift with putting stubborn children to sleep." There was a sound of the front door closing gently and then footsteps on the hardwood floor, coming steadily closer to the dining room where they were all waiting. Alex holds onto the sleeve of his mom's coat, dark eyes focused on the doorway as he waited. And finally, after tense moments that seemed to last a lifetime, the mysterious man was walking inside, heading straight for the Moran family with a fond smile.

"Who are you," Alex asks, stepping out from behind his mother. It was the man from the screens, shorter in person even though he was several feet taller than Alex; thin brows, high cheekbones, a long nose that was a bit rounded at the bottom, Cupid's bow lips, and a bit of dark stubble on his cheeks.

"Hello, Alexander," the man greets with that same Irish inflection from the video," I'm your father." He definitely fit with the men Alex's mom brought around every now and then, but it was his dark eyes that made Alex's breath hitch. They were _his_ eyes, he saw them each time he looked in a mirror and it didn't take long for him to piece everything together. _It's the man that sends checks every Wednesday so that I can keep going to my private school_.

And, seeing the recognition in his eyes, Moriarty grinned.


	20. School Day Surprises: Thalia Moran

Thalia had seen her daddy dress up as a lot of things while she was growing up—a priest, a taxi driver, and Hawkeye Pierce every Halloween—but the day she walked into her maths class at university and found him standing up in front of a room full of other kids, she realized he'd never put on the disguise of professor. Even when she was a kid, it was her papa or Alex that helped her with her homework because Daddy had no patience when it came to teaching anything that wasn't dissolving body parts or the fine art of planning murders.

Jim looks to her when she came into the room, nose twitching as he fought the urge to blurt out that she was his daughter and could kill everyone in the room with mostly sass. But he blinked and was back in character, the stern set to his mouth familiar to her after she turned seven and dyed his hair cotton candy pink. He was dressed in a dark blue suit and had chalk on the cuffs from writing equations on the board, hair slightly rumpled from running his fingers through it.

"Miss Moran, I presume," he states, hands clasped behind his back. "Are you always late to your classes?"

"Oh yeah," she nods with a wry smile," I've made it an art form." She makes her way to her seat near the front, setting her bag by her feet after pulling her notebook and pencil out. Daddy gives her an unamused stare that would have normal people running for the hills, but Thalia just smirks at him. She'd get an earful later for the blatant disrespect of a professor, though it'd fall flat once her papa fell off the couch laughing.

"Do you have an excuse this morning, at least?"

"I was doing stuff." The door to the classroom bursts open, Hamish practically stumbling inside with his jacket on upside down. "Oh, look, stuff made it to class quicker than I thought he would." Daddy's left eye twitches and the glare he sends in Hamish's direction was nothing less than _I'll personally strangle you with your small intestine_. Thalia wasn't worried, she'd just hold one of her daddy's favorite ties over an open flame and wait for the apology to be gritted out.

"Uh," Hamish stutters, clearing his throat as all eyes land on him. "I'll just…." He gestures to the empty seat on Thalia's right. "…Take my seat."

"You do that," Jim says, doing his best not to growl. "Now, if all the interruptions are finished, then we can get back to work." Thalia waits until his back is turned to pull out her phone, sending a quick text to her papa to warn him of the crap storm that might be coming his way in a few hours. "Thalia Moran, you put that phone away before I throw it out a window."

"Yes, sir," she says on instinct, quickly tucking her phone under her leg. James Moriarty was a lot of things, but tolerant of impoliteness isn't one of them. He'd taken her first cellphone and tossed out of a helicopter because she'd ignored him as she was texting, then made her get out and find it once they'd landed to really drive the point home. Ever since then, she didn't take chances like that when he could reach her phone.

"Now, if you'll all remember from last year…." Thalia tuned him out like she did every maths professor she's ever had, content to draw on the margins of her notebook as she waited for class to end. The only reason she ever passed her maths classes was her uncle Max's ability to hack into most computers as a semi-qualified MI5 mole.

Once the class had finished, Thalia and Hamish leave the classroom as quickly as they could before her daddy could call them out on their reason for being late. It's not like he could really complain considering he'd nearly missed an important meeting because Papa bent over conveniently. Thalia shudders at the memory, feeling sick to her stomach.

"Why was your dad teaching the maths class," Hamish whispers as they cross the campus for their English Lit class.

"He said something about recruiting," Thalia shrugs. "He says he's almost ready to retire from all the physical stuff and he'll need a stand-in for meetings and such."

"That's insane, he's going to be caught."

"He doesn't actually exist, so that won't happen." Hamish forces Thalia to stop at that, giving her an incredulous look. "What?"

"Your dad is a sociopathic mass-murderer that enjoys blowing up little old ladies in his free time and _he doesn't exist?_ Surely Uncle Mikey has a huge dossier on him at the very least."

"Maybe a few newspaper clippings from that trial he was put on for stealing the Crown Jewels, but _my_ uncle has erased everything else for Daddy and Papa. Alex and I still have our records since we've not done anything illegal beyond shoplifting, but that could be changed easily if we have to go into hiding again."

"That's fantastic, I'm marrying into a family of lunatics."

"I could say the same thing, darling." Despite the news that had been dropped on him like a ton of bricks, Hamish manages a weak smile as she laces their fingers together. "Relax, it's not like things will change between us. I don't plan on joining my parents' criminal empire and your brother has pretty much picked up the detective role from your parents. You and I get to be our own brand of crazy."

"That's comforting." They begin to walk again, taking their time since they were already late for the second class of the day. It was Thalia's favorite one, a place where she can argue about how fantastic Edgar Allan Poe is without people giving her the side-eye. The professor was a kindly old man that was slowly balding and had a habit of throwing around Shakespeare quotes when he was waxing poetic.

Walking into the spacious classroom, the pair got their second shock of the day. Standing at the front of the class in a pair of slacks and a tee that was a little too tight over his muscular biceps was none other than Sebastian Moran. His blue eyes land on his daughter and future son-in-law, the satisfied smile on his lips telling Thalia she was about to be severely mortified.

"Wanna tell me why you're both late to your papa's class, Honeybear?"

And, as if being taught by both of her fathers' wasn't bad enough, now the entire literature class knew her childhood nickname.


	21. Finding Identities: Sebastian Moran

It was always weird when Jim's brother stopped by, Sebastian spending ninety percent of the time trying to tell the two of them apart. They weren't twins, Jim was the elder, but they wore the same style of clothes and their hair was swept back in the same manner, and Sebastian was on edge the entire time. In fact, the best way to tell them apart was how they responded to his daughter.

Jim would touch her hair or tweak her nose to get on the nine year old's nerves, but Rich's reaction was awkward and stiff. He wasn't used to kids of any sort, even though he's known Thalia for a good portion of her life. Sure, he would send her a ridiculous amount of presents on her birthday and Christmas, he would happily keep her out of harm's way, but God forbid he actually have to keep her entertained.

Thalia didn't seem to mind it, coloring at the kitchen table while the adults spoke near the refrigerator. Well, Jim and Rich were speaking, Sebastian was just standing nearby and wondering how the world was still intact with two Moriarty's running around. Hell, it was a miracle that Sebastian was still sane at this point with a daughter whose latest hobby was tap dancing at one in the morning, a fiancé that occasionally blew up their microwave, and a future brother-in-law that took joy in breaking Sebastian's favorite toaster.

_Nothing's sacred with these assholes around_.

"….And that's how I got a way into MI-5," Rich was saying, a lazy smile curving his lips upwards. Where Jim was comfortable in his own skin, Rich took it to an entirely new level. Rich could be murdering someone in cold blood and make it look like the simplest thing in the world, offering no grim satisfaction like Sebastian or a feral grin like Jim, it was just like he was playing chess.

"Well done," Jim murmurs in return, though there was only a vague interest in his eyes. "Have you decided on an identity yet?"

"Intelligent, relaxed, a package deal when it comes to good ideas." He gives a little sniff, leaning back against the fridge. "Pretty much myself, really."

"Could've fooled me," Seb mutters, unfazed when Rich turns a glare in his direction. Jim's glares had a bigger impact, a slightly unhinged light in his eyes whenever he was angry. Rich's would scare most people, but Sebastian's got a pretty high tolerance when it comes to sociopaths. "So, are you actually going to change your name this time around?"

"I don't know, I quite like Rich."

"That's dumb." All three men look at the little girl, finding her sitting on her knees and watching them. Her crayons and coloring book lay forgotten on the table, her big blue eyes focused on her uncle Rich. "You can't use your own name if you're surrounded by a bunch of government people. God, even _Hamish_ could figure that out." Hamish Watson-Holmes was her current enemy, one of the few kids in her class that were actually smart enough to offer competition.

"She's right," Alex says as he walks into the kitchen," that's a really dumb idea, Rich." He refused to claim Rich as an uncle, which annoyed the man to no end despite not really caring about the kid. "You gotta pick something that a Holmes wouldn't expect from a Moriarty." Jim gives their kids an indulgent smile, proud at how fearless they seemed to be. "What do you think, Papa?"

"How the hell should I know," Seb returns with a shrug. "I just commit the murders, I don't create entire identities."

"That's more my area," Jim adds, ruffling Alex's dark hair. The ten-year-old pushes his hand off, frowning as he tries to fix it back to its stylishly messy form. He was meeting his friend later and was determined to have better hair than the other Holmes kid, Hamish's older brother offering mental stimulation for Alex. Sebastian didn't mind as long as neither of the boys try to break each other's noses again. "Alright, Honeybear, find us a blank page and a good crayon."

"'Kay, Daddy," Thalia says, turning back in her seat and flipping to the back cover of her coloring book. Jim and the other surround the little girl, Jim taking a sparkly, green crayon from her to write with. In a matter of two minutes, Jim had seventeen names written down and Thalia had added one in sky blue cursive. Seb arches a brow when he spots it, Jim gives a slight nod, Alex full-out grins, and Rich makes a noise of surprise. It was a pretty good name, all things considered, and it went with the surname Rich had mentioned earlier.

"Max Denbigh. That might actually work."

"Well duh, Daddy."


End file.
